


what to expect when you (might be) expecting

by rradioh



Category: Eagles (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, hi jaden hi loudhijabi :D, there are other characters too but they do not matter xoxo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rradioh/pseuds/rradioh
Summary: After a hazy night in Northern California, Amie might be pregnant, Elias might be in love, and neither of them knows what the hell they’re doing.
Relationships: Elias Kroon/Amie Samuelsson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. befruktning

**Author's Note:**

> ah.............hello. this has been a long time coming and it is only half finished. enjoy :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high school reunion in an empty vineyard and the storm that is Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u are swedish i do not mean to offend u. blame google

_**befruktning,** n._

_fertilization, conception, stimulation._

Amie had come home from her first touring season with money to burn. She had spent most of it buying lavish things for her and her mother. The things she had had to turn her head away from in stores when she was younger. As a child, she hadn’t understood rich or poor well, but she had always known that her friends had _something_ she didn’t. Klara had a pool; Sofia had a house with keys that would one day pass from her parents’ hands to hers. And Felicia, when they met, had seemed to have the world.

And girls like that? Girls who had that _thing_ Amie never had—they got Instagram likes, and forgiveness, and love. It had always been that way. Until Amie had heard her song on the radio for the first time, she figured it always would be.

So when she came home that summer with the thing — money, that is — she bought everything. A car for her mother. A TV in every room. She had even spent the day walking around the rich part of town ordering the most expensive wines on every menu. Amie had decided before she even came home that she would buy her mother a house; a real house. With no landlords upping rent and no hot water running out because the person next door was having a spa day.

“Paris, Rome, Stockholm, New York! Anywhere, Mama!” Amie had exclaimed, standing in front of where her mother sat on the couch in an oversized blue sweater. “You can finally get out of here!”

Her mother had smiled up at her in that way mothers do, like they’re in on some big secret you’ll never know, and set her mug of tea down on the small coffee table. They had found it on sale at a thrift store years before and painted it over, fixed it up. It was small enough to fit in their tiny living room. Being poor was like that; a bunch of small and constant reminders of how you were always having to make things work. But they didn’t have to do that anymore. Amie had thought her mother would be more excited.

Instead, her mother shakes her head and says, “There’s a house a few blocks from my work that’s up for sale. Yard big enough for a garden.”

Amie blinked once, twice, three times, before replying, “A garden? Is that all you want? A garden in Oskarshamn?” It comes out almost like a demand as Amie sits down on the couch.

Her mother reaches over and tucks a braid behind Amie’s ear, grazing a hand on her daughter’s cheek. “When you’re older,” Petra says, so tender it’s almost a whisper, “ _mitt hjärta_ , you’ll understand.”

Amie doesn’t think so. But she has to fly back to California in two weeks and doesn’t want to fight with her mother while she’s here, so she nods and calls the broker for the house the next day.

Her mother gets a garden. She plants tomatoes.

-

Two years and an EP later, Amie is still in California, replying to a picture her mother sent her of the tomato plants. She misses home, but the few times she’s been back since she bought the house, home hasn’t felt how she remembered it.

She’s supposed to be recording an album in Napa, but it’s never that easy. She had facetimed Ludde a few times to help with one of the songs, but considering noon back home was 3 a.m. in Cali, and how busy the SHL kept him, the sessions had been pretty fruitless.

So she’s in Napa, in a vineyard, a bottle of wine in her hand and a party droning on behind her. Everyone kept asking her when the new music was coming, if she was doing that collab with whoever, _blah blah blah_. Amie was drunk and she wanted to go home and eat fruit her mother had planted. She didn’t want to go to any more of these parties where she didn’t know anyone. Latched onto the arm of someone she had met after she became famous. It felt like she was mourning her youth before she had even left it, which also sounded like good song lyrics, which is why she sits down and pulls out her phone to try and type them out.

It’s why she doesn’t hear the crunch of sneaker soles against pressed down dirt until it’s right in front of her. For a second, the person looming over her has two faces, and she thinks, _Oh, no, I’m getting murdered before I win a Grammy._ But then the face’s features come into focus and create something … familiar.

“Eli...Elias?” Amie says, squinting at him as he crouches down next to where she’s sitting.

“Amie!” Elias exclaims, too giddy for someone she hasn’t spoken to since that party years back. “I thought I saw something glowing out here. Must have been you.” He flops down onto the ground next to where she’s sitting, not thinking twice about the effect smashed grapes and dirt might have on his white pants.

“Why are you here?” Amie asks, then floats for a second before realizing she was being rude. “I meant.”

Elias laughs like it’s an old joke between them. “Los Angeles Kings. Training like crazy.”

Amie nods. She has a murky memory of an article about him getting called up to the NHL this year. Hockey had kind of stopped existing to her when she moved here. “Last weekend off before the season starts?”

He giggles — _giggles_ — and nods. “Stanley Cup this season. June next year. I can’t lose.”

Amie nods again. “Album next year,” She offers. “I can’t lose either.”

Elias laughs again and the time melts away. It feels like Amie is seventeen again. Sitting next to him in a stolen car on the way to a city she shouldn’t be going to, feeding him green M&Ms. It feels like—. Well. She doesn’t want to get ahead of herself.

Elias doesn’t speak Swedish to her, for some reason. He speaks in heavy and slurred English, his accent thick from his intoxication. They huddle their heads together like children coming up with plots to get what they want out of the world. Giggling and arguing and then giggling again. They don’t fill each other in on what they’ve been doing. They talk like this is something they do all the time. Like this is their vineyard and they often take drunken strolls through it at well past midnight.

“I’m lonely here.” Elias finally says. “I’m living my dream but here I am, wasting away in a vineyard.” He laughs again, but it’s bitter. It rings through the air like the sound of metal against metal.

“I read something about—well, in Sweden,” Amie starts. Elias puts his chin on his hand and gives her his full attention like a kindergartener would his teacher. “I mean, back home; we have the whole...social security set up. Old people don’t need their kids to take care of them, and young people don’t need their parents...Which is good! But, it’s like — we recycle bottles so we can get some köner, not because we want to save the Earth, you know?” Elias nods, eyes droopy, and face softened by liquor. “And I think, er, I thought that’s normal. But I come here, I go to Italy, even to Finland! Generations of families live in one house. Italian families sit down at these massive dinners all the time. And me and my mom, it was always just the two of us, and we never — I mean, I think about how I used to talk to her and feel so embarrassed, y’know? And I think maybe everything would be different if I hadn’t grown up in what seems like solitude in comparison to other people.” 

“Not compared to me,” Elias jokes. “If you were in solitary confinement, I was already on the train to Siberia.”

“We were both on the train,” Amie laughs, knocking the back of her hand against his forehead. Elias catches her wrist as she pulls it away and holds it for a second, his pale hand almost too warm against her skin.

“We’re on the train together,” He almost whispers, before finally daring to speak their mother tongue. _“ Jag är ensam, Amie._ ” He presses his lips to the inside of her wrist. “I’m lonely, Amie.”

“Elias,” Amie breathes.

“You’re the only one who’s said my name right.”

“Your friends here are American. They don’t know better.”

Elias shakes his head, then cups Amie’s face in his hands, the calluses of his fingers contrasting against her soft skin. “You’re the only one who has ever said my name right.”

Amie’s voice is almost a whisper when she replies, her words set to a melody that came into her head as she stared into his blue eyes. “Elias. Elias, Elias—”

They come together like two people raised on hockey would; rough, desperate. Like there are seconds left between them and some prize they’ve been waiting their entire lives for.

He kisses her like he means it.

And she kisses him back. 

-

Amie wakes up in a tornado of a room, squinting against the sun filtering in from the window. She pulls the plush duvet up and over her bare chest, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her other hand and sighing.

The room is enormous. One of those pristine Napa villas that are bigger than all the apartments Amie grew up in combined. There’s no one in bed next to her. When she realizes her phone isn't in the covers or on the floor or the nightstands next to the bed, she scrambles into an oversized t-shirt she finds. She doesn't stop to calm down before rushing into the next room to look for it. All her voice memos and her lyrics were on there, what the fuck would she tell the label, _a hockey player stole my album, sorry?_

Right as she’s about to enter full panic mode, she turns the corner into the kitchen and finds Elias. He's towering over the stove, spatula in hand. He looks up as she comes tumbling in and gives her a confident smile, “Hey, you’re right in time for pancakes.”

“Have you seen my phone?” Amie replies. She ignores the mortification of standing barefoot in his kitchen in what must be _his_ t-shirt. Elias motions over to the other side of the counter and turns back to the stove to flip a pancake. Amie feels the anxiety drain from her body when she spots her phone plugged into a charger. “You didn’t go through it or anything, right?”

Elias scoffs and turns the stove off before facing her. “No, I didn’t, Miss Celebrity.”

“Well,” Amie says. A prickle of irritation runs over her body, “I thought maybe you’d picked up some things from your girlfriend.” She says it even though she knows he and Klara aren’t together anymore. She also knows her beef with Klara is a bit fucked up. According to Instagram, she’s still in some kind of grieving period for her father. But. Anger does things to Amie she doesn’t understand.

Elias's jaw clenches and then unclenches. “She’s not my girlfriend. But you knew that.” He turns back around and grabs a piece of bread out of the toaster. He spreads it with butter and puts a piece of cheese and some bacon on top. Amie watches him and thinks about how bizarre this all is. She fucked Elias Kroons, and now he’s making her a plate and scolding her. It’s like a living optical illusion. He sets the plate down in front of her and adds two pancakes. “You should let that shit go, y’know. No one told you to kiss Ludde, or fall in love with him, or whatever.”

Amie doesn’t respond, instead opting to pick a piece of bacon off her toast and take a bite. Elias (and Felicia) have always known what to say to get under her skin. “He kissed me. And I’m not in love with him.”

“Anymore,” Elias grumbles. Amie doesn’t know what he has to be grumbling about. His first love isn’t up and down Instagram with his ex-best friend.

“You should let that shit go, y’know.” Amie parrots, and smiles when Elias glares at her. He moves to the big, stainless steel refrigerator and peers in, leaving Amie to not-admire the way his arms flex against the door handle.

“Orange juice? Pineapple? Apple? Matcha?” He asks.

“Apple,” Amie answers.

“Hot ass juice,” Elias mumbles to himself, closing the fridge and getting a glass from one of the cabinets. Amie giggles. “It never gets cold, I'm serious.”

“Matcha?” Amie offers instead of responding to the apple juice defamation. She takes the glass when he hands it to her and he turns back around to pour his own helping of the green drink. “I thought you said it was shit.”

Elias shrugs and takes a sip. “Sometimes moms are right about stuff and you don’t realize until way later.”

For some reason, Amie thinks of her mother’s garden. “Yeah,” She says, not meeting Elias’s eyes. “Sometimes.”

-

She’s on her way out the door after their afternoon breakfast when Elias stops her and hands her a piece of paper. “My number,” He’s still in joggers and a thin shirt. “Do you remember last night?”

Amie nods and is grateful her skin is dark enough to hide how hot her face is. She remembers it. His face between her thighs. Him inside her. Her hands running over his broad shoulders and saying—singing almost—his name over and over. _Right there, Elias. So good, Elias. Missed you, Elias._

And he had said hers. _Amie, you’re so beautiful._ He had kissed her breasts and said, _Where have you been, Amie? I needed you. I need you, Amie. Älskade, älskade Amie._

“Some of it,” Amie finally answers, wanting to bury her face in her hands. 

Elias laughs. “I don’t usually fuck when I’m drunk. But, to me, it was good. You call if you need something, okay?”

“You mean dick? You want me to call if I need dick?”

Elias rolls his eyes and waves her off. “No, I mean anything. Dick, apple juice, if you want to…” Now he seems embarrassed. “Talk. Not be so lonely, y’know.”

Amie can’t help but remember the look in his eyes last night, right before they kissed. Usually, his eyes looked like the sky on a clear, summer day. But last night, they had looked like the sea, different emotions coming in and out of them in waves. Desperation, and a hopelessness Amie had never seen him have before. Elias had always been confident, even when everything and everyone was against him. _Jag är ensam, Amie_ , he had said in the vineyard.

How lonely was he?

“Yeah,” Amie answers, clearing her throat before continuing, “I know.”

In the Uber on the way to the airport, Amie turns the piece of paper over in her hands. Elias had written it with care, and it starts with a +1, so he must have gotten a new number when he moved to the US. In her mind, there’s some kind of split between the Elias she met last night and the one she went to high school with. Like the old version of him had died, with young, big-eyed Elias buried somewhere within the new one. Amie catches her reflection in the rearview mirror and wonders if there are two versions of her, too.

-

A few weeks later, Amie’s been in the house so long she’s starting to feel restless and grind her teeth in her sleep. That means that she has to go out soon. Probably with someone she can only stand when she’s not sober, and she’s not looking forward to it. She’s scrolling through her text messages, thinking about who would know the best move for the night when she gets an e-mail.

_Mrs. Kroon,_

She stops reading. Missus _who?!_

She blinks twice and the words on her screen are still the same.

_Mrs. Kroon,_

_Here are your tickets for tonight’s game. From now on, you’ll be on the list for the WAGs skybox for all Kings games, including any playoff games and away games. Elias has informed us that your ID doesn’t state your name change so we also have your maiden name on file. Since tonight’s game will be your first, we ask you to come early so you can have your pass printed and get to your seat in time. Your pass will serve as your entryway into the stadium from now on and will have your married name printed on it. Be careful not to lose it, but if you do, your husband will have to contact the front office to get a new one for you._

_We look forward to meeting you, please contact us with any questions. We apologize for the short notice but Mr. Kroons only recently informed us of your union._

_Carly Johnson_   
_Steward for the L.A. Kings_   
_+1 310 XXX XXXX  
She/her_

Amie blinks at her screen two more times, and read the email over and over. Her husband? _Their union?_ Tonight’s game?

Despite herself, Amie starts giggling. Elias might be older now, but he’s still as ridiculous as ever. She checks the time and sees that she still has four hours before she’d need to be at the stadium. She chews her lip in deliberation for a moment before hitting the reply button.

_Ms. Johnson,_

_Thank you for the information, I look forward to meeting you and your staff._

_Amie Kroon-Samuelsson Conde_

-

Amie hasn’t been to a hockey game since she left high school, but the smell of hockey rinks must be the same everywhere. As soon as she steps into the building, she’s flooded with memories of crowded bleachers and gloved hands.

She remembers, in high school, looking down to search for Ludde and her eyes finding Elias instead. 

He had already been looking at her.

Now, Amie fiddles with her backstage pass, taking care to hide the name Kroon lest someone think she and Elias are actually married. In the hours between confirming her attendance and showing up at the arena, Amie had debated everything about her appearance. She wanted to look like she cared. But not too much.

When she opens the door to the skybox, the already seated wives and girlfriends look up, stare, and then turn back to the front. They're perched on the edge of their seats waiting for the tip-off. Amie feels — not small. But. Something close to it. The tables next to the door have tall piles of food on them. Right as Amie picks up a plate, everyone starts cheering. Amie turns to the ice and sees Elias shining in the middle, like always. The bright lights of the stadium reflect off the ice and sink into the white of his uniform.

Amie, in a desperate attempt to not stare (even though she knows he can’t see her, but, _still—_ ), shovels the queso she’s put on her plate into her mouth. It’s spicy, she thinks. She can't taste it through the anxiety. A whistle blows and the puck drops onto the ice and she’s swept up into the storm that is watching Elias do what he loves.

—

Two long, hard-fought hours later, Amie hears Elias finish up an interview from where she’s standing in the corridor between the locker room and the parking garage. A few less important players have already left, reporters not bothering to bombard them with questions. Not the way they had Elias, who had scored the only goal of the game. Their wives and girlfriends and children had embraced them, rubbing their backs. Giving congratulations on assists and talking about what they would have for dinner. The single men were already sending discreet texts on their way past Amie. Smiling down at their phones and walking fast in anticipation of what was to come.

Amie watches one of the other rookies breeze past her with a similar disposition. “Hey,” A soft voice says behind her, and she turns around to see Elias, hair still damp from his after practice shower. He’ll be bald when he’s older, and if not, he’ll have thin white hairs atop his head. Her stomach clenches, for some reason, thinking of him being that old. Will he be like his father?

Will she be like her mother?

“Hey,” Amie finally breathes back and manages a shaky smile. “You did good. I think. The wives were talking over most of the game and I don’t have my glasses on.”

Elias laughs then fakes a frown, taking a step closer and inspecting Amie’s brown eyes. “Hm. I’ve never seen your glasses before.”

Amie feels like her heart is going to jump out of her chest and she has no idea why. “I never have them on.” She cocks her head a little to the side, her eyes still locked on his. She squints. “Is this conversation going in circles?”

Elias doesn’t laugh this time, opting to take another step closer instead. She can smell him now. The freshness of the soap he had used in the shower and the deodorant he had used after warming up the air around them. “I was waiting for you to congratulate me, _Amie_.”

It’s her turn to take a step forward. They’re almost chest to chest. The top of the zipper of her jacket brushing against right above where Amie knows his nipple is. “Congratulations, _Elias._ " She answers. She forms her lips around his name in a way she knows drives him crazy. In that way she knows is going to make him think of her lips wrapped around something else of his, and wouldn’t that be nice?

Elias groans, a sound she can’t hear so much as she can feel. It rumbles through where the very edge of her touches the very edge of him. “Amie—“ He says, then looks around, catches himself, and takes a deep breath of the charged air between them. “Dinner first,” He finally continues, never taking his eyes off hers, then adds, “Did you eat?”

Amie shakes her head. “A little bit, earlier,” She says, but most of her words get lost in the sound of someone running towards them. A man in a suit, maybe one of the coaches (Amie hadn't been joking about not being able to see), approaches Elias. The question he asks is so quick Amie misses it. Elias groans, but nods, because Elias is one of those people who fake hates being in charge.

"I have to handle something, I'll be right back." He says to her in Swedish. It feels like a strange intimacy with someone watching them, unable to understand. Elias hands her a key fob and pulls her into a quick hug, kissing the side of her forehead. "Blue jeep, put your music on." And then he's walking away, engrossed in conversation with the man in the suit. Amie feels frozen in the hallway, her body in the same position Elias had left it in when he stopped hugging her. Elias's sudden onslaught of intimacy had thrown her off. He had made it seem as if the two of them had been kissing each other goodbye their entire lives. As if they had eloped lovers. As if every inch of their bodies belonged to one another. She still remembers the way his lips had brushed against her fingertips when they were teenagers. The way he had smelled across the sink at the graduation party, the way they had kissed in the vineyard. Amie thinks, maybe, they are lovers. Maybe they have been longer than either of them realized.

She sits with the revelation as she finds Elias's car and figures out how to connect her phone to the Bluetooth. Ariana Grande's voice floats out the speakers, in part because Amie loves her and in part because she thinks it will be funny to see Elias do his little head-bop as Ariana brags on her pussy.

Amie looks through his car when she gets bored of drumming her fingers against her thighs. She finds, in order,

two throw blankets

cologne

a gym bag full of snacks

Amie claims an already opened bag of hot Cheetos from the gym bag and starts munching away. She's only a few Cheetos in when Elias opens the door and peers in at her with humor dancing in his eyes. "You helped yourself?" Amie shrugs and he gets into the car.

"Are you gonna explain why you have these in your car?"

It's Elias's turn to shrug, as Amie scoots a little towards the door so he can put his real gym bag in the backseat. "The dietitian checks your fridge for unhealthy shit, but not your car. A man does what he has to." Amie laughs. There's a lull in the conversation, the silence filled with Ariana crooning, _"...like this pussy designed for 'ya"_ over the speakers. Elias raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me something, Amie?" He asks, and it's a joke but it's that kind of joke that Amie knows wouldn't be a joke anymore if she took it at face value.

Without thinking twice, she places her palm on the divider and leans over to kiss him, long and slow. The kisses she imagines those wives who were waiting for the husbands after the game would give them. They've never kissed like this before, so deliberate. Elias reaches over to hold her closer, even though it's not possible. Amie runs her hands up his arm and over his shoulder to the back of his neck. She lets her fingertips graze the little blonde hairs there. She tugs on them, unable to stop herself, and Elias groans into her mouth. He starts to climb over the divider while Amie giggles. "I thought we were having dinner first," She chides, but Elias just kisses her again.

" _Aptitretare_ , Amie, appetizer," Elias breathes back. He's over the divider and in the passenger seat now. He pulls Amie into his lap so he can kiss her again. Amie shivers. The butterflies in her stomach start flapping their wings harder and harder until --

"Wait!" Amie yells and opens the car door just in time to throw up on the ground of the parking garage. Elias, disheveled, sits there for a minute before starting to rub her back. There's a loud, awkward silence after Amie's last heave comes up dry, and Amie wipes her mouth off on the back of her hand. She's sure that's sexy.

"Are you okay?" Elias finally asks when Amie sits back up. She knows he's not going to kiss her again because that would be gross. She also wishes he wanted to kiss her so bad that the grossness wouldn't matter. She can't think straight, and the car is too small, and her mouth tastes like the bottom of a shoe. Elias reaches back and grabs his gym bag. He rummages through it for a second before handing Amie a bottle of mouthwash. "Are you okay?" He asks again, gentler this time. Less like a reflex and more like he cares. "Was it something you ate?"

Amie shakes her head. "I didn't eat today." Elias keeps rubbing her back, and she melts into him without thinking about it. Laying her head on his chest and feeling it rise and fall. His cologne doesn't make her nauseous, but every other smell in the car does. And there are so many smells in the fucking car. Elias's gym bag, the Cheeto that had fallen in the cupholder, that faint scent of leather.

"Hate to be that guy, but do you think it's your period? Felicia and my mom get nauseous when theirs come."

Amie freezes. The few weeks she had been rotting in her apartment had passed in a blur. But now that she's thinking about it, she hadn't opened a tampon in those weeks. Or spotted. Or even got a cramp. There's a ringing in her ears when Elias speaks again. "Amie?"

There's a long pause. "I'm late." Amie finally answers, and Elias's hand freezes on her back. His fingers curl into her jacket a little bit.

"When was the last time you got it?"

The ringing gets louder as she looks up into his eyes. So loud she can barely hear herself say the one word that might change their lives forever.

"Before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt @rradioh


	2. födsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amie and Elias have a night full of revelations that change their lives.

_**födsel,** n. --_

_birth, nascency._

|

They’re sitting at a random diner Elias had driven them to, completely silent. There’s a stone in Amie’s stomach so big she can’t even think about eating, but he orders some pancakes. The smell of them makes her want to throw up again.

“There’s a CVS across the street,” Elias offers, the first words they’ve spoken since Amie sunk back into the passenger’s seat in the parking garage. Amie stares up and out the window, and, sure enough, the bright red of a CVS and it’s flashing open sign are staring back at her. “You should eat.” He says.

Irritation prickles across Amie’s mind, heat rising beneath her skin. “Why are you so calm?” She asks, as Elias shovels more pancakes into his mouth. She _really_ feels like throwing up again.

Elias shrugs. “Whatever the test is gonna say, it’s gonna say it whether we stress out or not.” He puts one of his pancakes on the extra plate he ordered and starts cutting it into squares. Amie watches. The sound of his silverware against the plate rings dully in her ears.

“So why even take it?” She asks, tucking a braid behind her ear as he drowns the cut-up pancake in syrup and pushes it towards her. She stares down at it then back up at him. He stares back, raising his almost invisible eyebrows towards the food. Amie begrudgingly shoves one of the squares in her mouth before sinking back against the booth. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of them chewing, which is comforting to her in a freakish, gross kind of way. “This is fucking bizarre,” Amie says after she swallows, leaning forward with renewed anxiety, pressing the white of her palm against the linoleum table. “I could be pregnant,” She whispers harshly, looking around after she says it, even though the only other people there are sitting at the bar across the restaurant.

Elias, with all his emotional intelligence, snorts. Amie considers picking up her fork and stabbing him, just a little, in the arm, and then she thinks about how crazy she is for thinking that, and then she wonders if it’s the hormones making her insane, and then she feels like throwing up again. Instead, she puts her head down over her crossed arms, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The tabletop smells like a cheap all-purpose cleaner, the same kind that Amie’s mother always used.

A few deep breaths later, Elias speaks up again. “What are you thinking?”

Amie pauses and turns her head to the side. “My mom used to make me clean the whole house on Saturday mornings. She would play old music and we would use a cleaner that smelled like…” She picks at the linoleum with her pointer fingernail. “It smelled like this.”

“Mm,” Elias replies. More silence. Then, “It’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“What?”

“Being someone’s parents,” Elias answers breezily like Amie isn’t having a mental breakdown over the same thought. “Like, we remember all this random stuff about our childhoods. Shit our parents probably never even thought twice about. What cleaner they used, the way they used to hold both my hands when I crossed the street…” Elias is lost in his thoughts for a moment before shaking his head. “Shit like that.”

Amie swallows, and her hand unconsciously moves to her stomach.

It doesn’t feel any different. Obviously. And she knows she’d need an ultrasound to see anything, but movies are always talking about a woman’s intuition, about just _knowing_. She gropes her stomach over the fabric of her shirt, searching for warmth, a bump, anything. It seemed strange that she could feel so different and still look the same.

“Are you gonna talk to me?” Elias says, taking a big sip of his water.

“I still feel sick right now,” Amie replies. Even though she still kind of wants to stab him with the fork.

“No, I mean — after.” Elias looks her dead in the eye now, latching on to some part of her that only he’s ever been able to touch. “After the test, no matter what the result is.”

Amie wants to say, _“Of course!”_ But it’s not that easy. Will she be able to look at him the same? Will she be able to feel as free as she had that night in the vineyard, his head in the valley of her breasts, planting kisses wherever his lips could reach? “I don’t know.” She answers quietly.

“Hm,” Elias responds. He takes another bite of pancakes. Amie is starting to think he’s stress eating, which is almost cute enough to get her to smile. “Give me until midnight.” He says. Amie raises an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“You’re gonna run away again. No matter what the test says.”

“You don’t—”

“I know you,” Elias says, the most serious he’s been all night. Amie presses her lips together. He watches her do it, licking his own lips before continuing. “I know you, Amie. And the test says whatever it says, three hours from now or not. So just wait until midnight to take it.”

“You _know_ me?” Amie repeats, partially baffled that he had the guts to say it and partially knowing that it was true.

Elias nods. “You’re just like me.” He’s so calm. Amie hates that. She hates his calculated confidence, the way privilege just rolls off him in waves. The way she never knows what’s going on inside his head. And now he’s saying they’re just alike.

He could be right, she supposes. Amie’s never known herself that well.

Amie taps her phone screen. 8:45. She raps her acrylic nail against the table, once, twice, three times, before answering, “Just until midnight.”

Elias smiles.

She feels like she’s going insane.

-

They’re silent for most of the car ride, except for Amie asking where they were going and Elias saying it was a surprise. Just as Elias makes another left (he drives too fast, Amie thinks), Amie’s song floats out of the speakers, the DJ announcing her name. Amie reaches to change the station, but Elias already has a big, goofy smile on. Amie hides her face in her hands as he rolls down the window and yells to no one in particular, “Ah, this song! I think the girl who sings it is really sexy!”

“Shut up!” Amie yells back, trying to reach across him and roll his window back up. He grabs her forearm with his free hand and takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. It’s one moment, barely, but it’s burned in Amie’s memory; the heat of his fingers wrapped around her arm, her braids falling his lap, the brightness of his eyes, the warmth of his smile. The _pride_ radiating off of him, like he wrote the song himself. As if each of her achievements was his, too. It was how she had always felt watching him play hockey, and she had never once stopped to think he had felt the same towards her. That Elias took pride in her. “Shut up,” She says, softer, and Elias strokes his thumb back and forth, running through the peach fuzz on her arm.

When they pull into the parking lot of wherever they’re going, Elias is still holding her. Her palm rests against his thigh, and it feels like the heat is radiating from his leg all through her body. Elias parks the car. “Can I have a kiss?” Elias asks like they’re in middle school. Amie’s heart skips a beat.

Despite her logical brain saying it’s all _insane_ , that they should be in CVS or a fucking Planned Parenthood right now, Amie nods and leans over, letting her lips rest on his. Elias guides her hand to his face, continuing to stroke her wrist with his thumb as they kiss. When Amie pulls away, Elias moves forward, giving her short, sweet kisses again and again. Two on her lips. One on each cheek, three on her jawline. One on her forehead, softly. “I want to show you something,” He says against the skin of her forehead, before pulling back and reaching into the backseat to grab a blanket and his gym bag full of food. Amie is stuck for a second, reeling from the quick switch from intimacy to action. She gets out of the car to find Elias already at the passenger’s side door, frowning. “I was going to open that,” He mumbles. Amie rolls her eyes.

“Too bad,” She replies, and he sticks his tongue out at her. They round a corner and Amie has to stop herself from gasping.

A big, open field has been converted to an outdoor movie theater, with food trucks lining the sides of where the audience is sitting. Fairy lights hang between the trucks, lighting the way in the darkness. People are piled on top of blankets, and some of them even brought chairs. Idle chatter fills the air. “Have you been here before?” Elias asks, snapping Amie out of her trance. She shakes her head.

“No, never…” Amie trails off, lost in amazement as they walk towards an open spot towards the back of the fray. Amie suddenly remembers that they’re both a little famous, something she’s painfully aware of any other time. Elias is probably trying to keep a low profile. She follows him, a small distance between them. Now and then, Elias’s arm brushes against hers. “I think I wanted to come here when I first moved.”

“What happened?” Elias asks, before deciding he’s found the perfect spot in an especially empty and dark section of the field and laying their blanket down. His whole gentleman act is kind of creeping her out. But it’s kind of sweet, too.

Amie waves it off. “One of my friends said it was too touristy, we went to a party instead.” Elias nods.

“Parties suck.” He says. A laugh bursts out of Amie and takes them both by surprise. After a moment, Elias laughs too.

“They do.” Amie agrees and then sits down on the blanket. She raises an eyebrow when she looks up and sees Elias still standing. He points across the field to one of the food trucks.

“That’s my favorite place. They do these loaded fries…” Elias kisses his fingers, and Amie rolls her eyes.

“You just ate.” She reminds him, then shakes the bag full of snacks just for good measure.

Elias considers all these things before saying, “I’m a growing boy. I’ll be right back.” Before Amie can reply, he’s on his way to the truck, rubbing his hands together like a greedy little boy. Amie supposes that’s what he is.

When he’s gone, Amie’s left alone with her thoughts for the first time since she threw up in the parking garage. The weight of the world comes crashing down on her. She could be pregnant right now, and she’s in a park watching a movie with her possible baby daddy like nothing is wrong. She presses a hand to her stomach again, closing her eyes and trying to feel _something,_ anything, the anxiety that’s been dully pounding in the back of her head coming to the front in full force. She knows she could tell Elias to take her to CVS and get a test at any second, but a part of her wants to wait. A part of her is scared of the truth, whatever that is. Amie moves her hand from her stomach to the blanket when she remembers the people around her can see her, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

Elias comes back minutes later, and Amie still doesn’t open her eyes. She just feels his weight settle next to hers, feels the blanket pull taught in the space between them. She smells the fries he has and doesn’t feel the urge to throw up, so at least the nausea is done with (for now). “Meditating?” Elias asks.

Amie snorts. “No.” She opens her eyes. The fairy lights have been turned down, and the giant screen in front of them is illuminated with the opening credits. It’s a silly rom-com that Amie vaguely recognizes the title of. “I’m not that zen right now.”

“Me either,” Elias replies, strangely sincere. She looks over at him as he shovels another fry in his mouth. She can’t stop herself from smiling a little.

“You stress eat,” Amie says, and ignores Elias’s fry-muffled protests. “Sh. The movie’s starting.”

-

They’re about ten minutes into the movie when Elias moves closer to her, his thigh touching hers and his arm a warm presence behind her back. Without letting herself think much about it, she curls into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

For just a second, Amie allows herself to imagine all of this, with a baby. She knows it’s painfully girl-ish of her, immature even, to consider the aesthetics of them with their child, but she can’t help it. Elias holds her the way a father holds a mother. Like there is a deep and inexplicable bond between them.

They would have had to go during the day, for starters. Unless they got a babysitter, it was too late for a baby to be out, and if they got fussy, Amie and Elias would end up being The Couple With The Crying Baby. The baby would be a little older, maybe a year and some change, and would crawl back and forth on the blanket, from where Elias’s leg was outstretched to where Amie would be sitting with open arms. Elias would hold them both, Amie on the right and the baby cuddled into his left. He was strong enough for that, wasn’t he? For them to lean on?

Like he can hear her thoughts, Elias plants a soft, chaste kiss on the top of her head.

Amie thinks that maybe —

She doesn’t know what she thinks.

-

Forty minutes in, Amie is dozing off even though the movie is good. She’s had a long day, seriously, and it was nowhere near over yet. Elias shrugs off his jacket, jostling her a little. “Sorry,” he whispers, then drapes the jacket over both of them, but mostly her.

Amie pulls it tighter against herself, fading in and out of consciousness as the couples and families and friends around them laugh at some joke on-screen. Elias says something but she doesn’t make it out, closing her eyes again when he doesn’t repeat himself.

The jacket smells like him.

-

The movie is almost over when Amie comes to, the main couple confessing their undying love for each other on...The Golden Gate Bridge?! Had they been in San Francisco the whole movie? Amie could’ve sworn they started in New York.

Just as she’s about to ask Elias to confirm or deny her suspicions, a soft and happy song starts playing as the main characters kiss passionately. Amie laughs. Elias starts, probably surprised that she had woken back up. “What’s funny?”

“I wrote this song,” Amie says. That’s why the movie’s name had been familiar. “It’s not me singing, but I wrote it.” Amie had hated that fucking song. She begged the label to let her give it to another artist, and now here it was, the soundtrack to the most bizarre night of her life thus far.

“You _wrote_ this?!” Elias exclaims louder than he has to.

“ _Shhh!”_ Amie responds, hoping no one heard him.

Of course, Elias then makes it his mission to have everyone hear him. He stands up and proclaims, “She wrote this song!” At the top of his lungs. And the top of his lungs is pretty high, what with all the practice yelling insults at people on the ice. Amie thinks she could die of fucking embarrassment. “This is her song, she wrote it!”

“I know that’s right, girl!” Someone in front of them yells, and Elias points at them to show his agreement. Amie manages to pull him back down with all the strength in her body, and Elias collapses into laughs the second he’s back sitting next to her. The people closest to them are looking at them like they’re insane, and Amie should be mortified, but she’s started to giggle along with him. He’s laughing so hard that he’s shaking, his guffaws interrupted by quick, desperate gasps for breath. Elias is wheezing, and it’s so ugly Amie can’t help but find it cute.

Luckily for them, the credits are rolling, so no one’s mad at them for interrupting the movie. They get a few annoyed glances because they’re kind of being loud as fuck, but Amie can’t make herself care as much as she usually does. She might be pregnant, and Elias might be a father, and she has an album due soon that she hasn’t even started yet, and Elias is trying to win a fucking Stanley Cup, and she might be pregnant. She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Her mother had always said she took herself too seriously.

“You’re insane,” Amie says when they’re finally done laughing and Elias is rolling the blanket back up. Elias smiles at her, taking a few steps forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. There are still people around, mostly packing their stuff up, but some of them just seem to be milling about. There’s a woman in Elias’s blind spot who obviously knows who Elias is, but he seems to have the decency to not interrupt a private moment, which Amie appreciates.

“Just proud. You should be proud.” 

Amie shrugs, digging the tip of her shoe into the dirt and avoiding his eyes. Just as she’s about to suggest that they leave, Elias kisses her. Really kisses her, nothing like the soft pressing of lips they had had in the car before. He kisses her like he thinks she might disappear if he doesn’t, which probably looks so gross if anyone is watching, but Amie doesn’t care. She deserves to be kissed like this, doesn’t she? Years of second best, of being alone in rooms full of people, of trying to make herself fall in love with people and places not meant for her — isn’t one good kiss the least she deserves from the world? She is never second best, with Elias.

They argue and fuss, and he embarrasses her like someone is paying him to, but he cares about her in a way no one else ever had before. When Elias kisses her, he reaches deep down inside her, pulls the ugly parts out with his calloused hands, and kisses them, too. _I know you,_ Elias had said, _I know you, Amie._

When they pull apart, Amie expects that trademark smile, the troublemaking one he always has on. Instead, he’s looking at her like the world is ending, like this is the last time they’ll ever see each other. Amie thinks back to the dinner, the way the cars driving by had cast shadows on his face. _You’re gonna run away again. You’re just like me._

It’s suddenly a lot colder in the field. Elias’s hand burns her where they’re touching.

None of this is real. This is another road trip, another quick break from reality where they play pretend until their parents come to get them back in line. Amie’s face is hot with embarrassment. Despite her best efforts, her eyes sting with unshed tears. What had she been _thinking?_ Rambling to herself about car seats and babysitters like her and Elias stood a chance. Like either of them was ready to be someone’s parents, or to be with each other.

Elias had always lived in some other world — in a world with marble countertops and bachelor apartments at 17, in a world of reality tv shows and pools in the backyard. “Amie?” He asks, softly. Her skin crawls. None of this is real.

Just as she’s about to tell him as much, the woman who had recognized Elias earlier walks up to them, hands up to show she’s not a threat. Amie turns away as Elias puts on a smile and greets the fan. The woman’s girlfriend (or wife, Amie supposes after seeing the rings on their fingers) takes the photo, smiling along with Elias and her wife.

“You’re beautiful,” The one who took the picture says to Amie quickly, a warm smile on her face. Amie doesn’t feel like it, but she smiles back. “Lovely couple, really,” She adds, before moving to pry her wife off of Elias’s arm.

“Aren’t we?” Elias agrees, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Amie wants to go home. She wants to hug her mother.

Elias finishes up with them, saying a bunch of nothing that Amie doesn’t catch, before ushering Amie back towards where the car is parked silently. They walk with a significant distance between them, and Amie has to stop herself from putting a hand on her stomach. When they get to the car, Elias opens the door for her and she can’t bring herself to say thank you.

“What are we doing?” Amie finally asks, after Elias has put the snack and blanket in the backseat. Elias pauses, not looking at her, before starting the car.

“I don’t know.” He says, which surprises Amie. “I’m in it with you, Amie.”

“Then you could act like it.” Amie snaps. She doesn’t know where the anger came from.

Elias rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Amie,” He breathes, running a free hand through his hair as he merges onto the street. “I don’t know what your problem is.” Amie could strangle him. “If you wanted to take the test, you could’ve just taken the fucking test.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“I’m—” He yells, then clears his throat and takes a deep breath. He continues calmer. “I’m not. I’m not trying to argue.” A moment passes. “But you act like —”

“I act like what?!”

“You act like you don’t have any control over any of this!” Elias bursts, banging his hand against the steering wheel. “If you didn’t want to sleep with me, you didn’t have to! You didn’t have to come to the game, or not take the test—”

“I just get me so wrapped in your bullshit that I lose my mind, like always! Like always!”

“You’re in love with me!” Elias exclaims, his voice cracking, the car shaking a little as his grip on the steering wheel changes. Amie flinches like she’s been hit. “The way you fucking look at me, the way we fuck, the way you —” Elias blinks rapidly and swipes at his eyes as he turns a corner. Amie is glad the sun has gone down. She doesn’t know if she could see him cry. “The way you hold my hand, the way you smile at me. _Amie, ditt lende._ ” _Amie, your smile._ “And you let me have these pieces of you, and then you just — disappear. You get scared or vindicated or whatever and just _leave me_.”

He looks so small. He turns the car off in the CVS parking lot and opens and closes his mouth, searching for the words to say. “I didn’t mean to yell,” He adds lamely, deflated. Amie nods and gets out, feeling his eyes on her back as she walks in.

She’s trying to focus on finding the right test, whatever the fuck that is, but Elias’s words keep ringing through her head. _You’re in love with me!_

Amie is in love with him. And he knew before she did.

She’s such a fucking mess.

She doesn’t realize her hand is shaking until she picks up the pink box in front of her, and by then it’s too late to stop the tears from coming, too. She fucking hates it here. She hates the parties and the people who are supposed to be her friends, and she’s known she’s hated it the entire time and never tried to change it. Was she that lonely?

An older black woman in a red shirt approaches her hesitantly, hands up like she’s walking up to a wild animal. Amie is so embarrassed. She can’t stop crying. “Do you need anything, sweetheart?” The woman asks, bending down a little so she’s level with Amie.

Amie sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, which is probably disgusting. “I don’t…” Amie’s voice comes out weaker than she means it to. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well,” The woman starts. “The scariest part is always acknowledging something’s happening. But after you know, after you look around and see things for what they are,” She takes the pink box out of Amie’s hand and gives her a green one. “Then you can do something about it.”

Amie sniffles again, and nods, whispering a small thank you before heading to the cash register.

She checks out in a daze and walks back to the car with the bag clutched tightly to her chest.

When she gets in, Elias is still sitting there, waiting, with those big eyes trained on her. He looks like a kicked puppy. “I’m scared,” Amie says, as calmly as she can.

Elias nods. “Me too.” Then, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know.” Amie answers. “I know you, Elias.” She pries her hand away from her chest and reaches across the divider, intertwining her fingers with his.

Their hands fit together like they were made for one another.

-

Elias’s apartment is a big, empty thing, just like the villa he had rented in the vineyards. The couch is pristine white. All of the furniture looks like it was just pulled out of the catalog and never used. A corner of his living room is huge floor to ceiling windows, and the view of the city is so beautiful Amie thinks it’s a shame if Elias doesn’t take a few minutes just to stare at it every day. She picks up a remote and presses a button, starting a little when the blue led lights behind the tv and under the couch come on. Elias breathes out a laugh and she turns to look at him from where she’s standing in the living room. “Do you have any other clothes?” She still has on the mini skirt and sweater she had gone to the game in. This morning felt like it was lightyears away.

Elias nods and ducks off down the hallway on the side of the kitchen, towards what must be his bedroom. Amie is sure it’s just as bare as the rest of the apartment, in terms of personality. Poor Elias, she thinks as she strokes the perfectly placed fur blanket draped over the back of the couch. So lonely.

Elias comes back a moment later and walks over to hand her a pair of sweatpants. He was so tall that it was hard for him to find pants, so the few pairs that he did have were more than a little lived in. It feels like Amie’s on fire when their hands brush as he hands the pants to her. “Thanks,” She mutters. Elias nods and sits down on the couch while she stays standing. Amie moves to take off her skirt, twisting around to unzip it. Just before she can get the zip in her reach, Elias extends a hand and unzips it for her halfway. She’s pulled closer to him by the action, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of her chest. “Thanks,” Amie says again, softly, hesitating for a moment before carding her fingers through Elias’s hair.

Elias leans into it, basking in the attention before pulling her arm down so he can kiss her palm, her wrist, the inside of her forearm. “Amie,” He says, resting his forehead against her stomach. “Amie,” He says, pulling her zipper down the rest of the way and letting her skirt fall to the ground. “Amie.” He breathes, enveloping hips in his big hands and holding on tight, pressing kisses to the very edge of her panties.

“Elias.” Amie answers. Elias’s grip tightens on her, almost desperate, his lips trailing fervent kisses over her. His thumbs hook onto the side of her thong and pull down. He keeps kissing her. He moves lower and lower, pausing for a moment to pull his shirt off and moving Amie to sit down on the couch. He kneels in front of her, performing penance, his eyes piercing hers in the dark room. “Elias.” She says again, and something inside him seems to break open. He kisses her thighs hungrily before finally finding his way between her legs.

She thinks of Elias standing up and exclaiming, “She wrote this song!”

Her moans fill the empty apartment. When he pushes inside her, Amie thinks, _We wrote this song._

-

After, Elias pulls his discarded t-shirt over Amie’s head, picking her up bridal style. She tells him to put her down, seriously, but it’s hard to be serious when she’s laughing so hard. He places her down on the toilet and hands her the test. The bathroom tile is cold against her feet. She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. “You gonna watch me pee?” She challenges.

Elias rolls his eyes but turns around, and Amie tries to tell her heart to calm down as she fulfills the instructions on the side of the green box. “You finished?”

Amie crinkles her face up and laughs before wiping and flushing the toilet, quickly. She places the test on the countertop and moves to wash her hands. Elias sits down on the edge of his massive bathtub across from the toilet and sink and watches. Amie likes the way he looks at her. Like she’s the only thing in the world. Amie dries off her hands and wiggles her fingers. “Done.” Elias chuckles. “It’ll be five minutes. Two lines mean pregnant, one line means not pregnant.”

“Two lines mean pregnant, one line means not pregnant,” Elias repeats obediently, and Amie can’t stop herself from giving him a little kiss as she sits down next to him.

There’s a moment of silence. “This is the hardest part,” Amie says like she’s done this a million times before. Elias raises an eyebrow. “Just finding out, it’s the hardest part. After that we just. Make a decision.”

Elias nods. “And have you thought about the decision?”

“I have an album to make. And you’re trying to win a Cup.”

Elias waves her off. “What does that have to do with us?” Amie stares at him in disbelief, then laughs so hard her stomach starts to hurt. Elias giggles with her.

“It’d be a lot of work. Either way. A baby or a relationship. Or both.” Elias knocks his knee against hers and moves closer. They’re huddled together like kids under a jungle gym.

“Do you want a relationship?”

“Do you want a baby?” Amie challenges. Elias giggles.

“It’s not what I imagined,” Elias says, then turns and bends down a little so they’re face to face. The tips of their noses brush against each other. “But I’d rather do it with you now than with anyone else later on.” He lifts his head to place a kiss right under her eye.

Amie feels like her chest is cracking open from how much she loves him.

A second later, the test beeps on the countertop. Elias stares at her like he’s ready for anything. Amie reaches as far as she can and grabs onto the stick, her hand over the results when she pulls it back to them. Elias presses closer, his entire side against hers. _This is the hardest part_ , Amie thinks to herself, before prying her fingers back so they can see what it says.

When she turns to look at him, Elias is already studying her, a smile in his eyes. “Don’t run, Amie,” He says. He wraps a warm hand around her neck to pull her closer.

Their lips touch when Amie answers back.

“I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if i could keep it on my computer and just tweak it forever I would so I'm forcing myself to post it or else I'll hold it hostage forever. i just feel like there are more scenes I could add, I wanted it to feel like one of those nights where reality is suspended if yk what I mean and idk if that really comes across so it just seems...bizarre? idk. lmk what u think. also hi mirah hi jaden. also I dont know swedish sorry to oomfs


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